Page 31 of The Players

Praying for patience, she once again knocked on the door. “Could you please open the door so I can help?”

His response was a grunt.

“Stubborn man. You have a gaping hole in your arm. I doubt you can take care of it yourself.”

Then the doorbell chimed. Finally, Vince was back home. Maybe he could talk some sense into Sy. She rushed to open the door.

“I— You’re not Vince.”

Before her stood a beautiful woman in a satin bodice that barely covered her nipples and pink hot pants that seemed to be painted on her.

Catlike eyes looked up and down her body. “Oh, I’m definitely not Master Vince. And who the hell are you?”

Master Vince? She wasn’t sure why that title rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe it was because of the girl’s hateful look, or the dismissive one that ended with a snort when eying her torn dress.

Carmen almost started to explain how she had scraped her back against walls while trying not to get murdered. Then she remembered she didn’t owe this girl an explanation.

“I’m Carmen. Who are you?”

“Dahlia,” the girl said and rushed past her, walking to the bathroom. From the way she found her way inside, it was obvious she’d been here before. “Master Vince sent me to give this to Sy.”

It was then Carmen noticed the first aid kit Dahlia was carrying.

“You can give that to me if—”

“I don’t think so,” Dahlia cut her off. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Sy doesn’t like people fussing over him. At least not that kind of fussing.” A wink followed. “Of course, if he wants me to help out any other way…”

Subtle. Real subtle. The only thing missing was for her to piss all over him to show her ownership. It was obvious Dahlia was strictly here on Vince’s orders and didn’t really give a crap about Sy. At least not that way…

The man deserved better. He had saved her life and she was going to return the favor, even if it killed him to let her do it.

Really? Even if it kills him?

Okay, that didn’t come out right.

She yanked the first aid kit out of Dahlia’s hand.

“Hey!” the girl protested.

The bathroom door opened and Sy appeared. She could see from the pinch in his eyes that he was in pain. Of course, he would never admit that. It was probably in the “how to be a tough guy” code or something.

“Oh good,” Carmen said. “You’ve finally decided to stick your head out of that cave. Now, are you going to man up and let me help you?”

Dahlia’s jaw dropped. She stood in between them, unsure of what was happening. Unlike her, Carmen knew exactly what was happening—she was calling him out. The knot in her stomach had unraveled, making her feel elevated.

Sy glared at her.

She sent him a smile.

What returned was a scowl.

Too late, big guy. You took a bullet for me. No way will you hurt me.

“I’m so sorry, Master Sy.” Dahlia gulped. “Vince sent me to—”

“Yes, he sent you with the first aid kit,” Carmen interrupted her, putting a hand on Dahlia’s elbow. “And it was very nice of you to deliver it. I will take it from here.” She quickly ushered the still protesting woman outside.

By the time she returned to the living room, Sy had actually stepped out of the bathroom. It was difficult not to notice his ripped stomach that ended in a deep V in his low-hung jeans. She looked away, feeling awkward when she found herself staring at him. Who knew real-life men actually had bodies like that?

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